Ethereal Reflection
by Aeris9919
Summary: Danny wants something so desperately that sleep eludes him, and in his wake he seeks an answer. What does he see when he looks in the mirror?


Out of all my fanfics, I have two that really seem to stand out to audiences. The first, of course, is 'Stage Presence', but multi-chapter fics are always going to get attention. The second, which has me stumped, is my Danny/Danny yaoi fic, 'Another Long Night.' This confuses me because one- it's a one-shot, and these have a tendency to fall to the back, unnoticed and unreviewed. Two- I, personally, do not feel it is my _best_ work. Since I've released it, I've been trying to do a second Danny/Danny fanfic, and it's all been for none. I hate to write things on demand, so when inspiration doesn't come, I never force it.

But about a week ago I saw a drawing bya dear friend of my, our ownTheChichiriNoMiko. She drew a picture of Danny, withhisphantom sidereflected in the mirror behind him. Suddenly, I had an idea. Nothing as extreme as my last venture on the pairing, but it is a venture none the less. I just want everyone to remember when they're reading that this story was inspired by a picture, and that picture deserves to be viewed. The link will be onmy profile, and I hope that all ofyou will view it.

OH- and please review! Ireally hope this one will getgood feedback.

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Nope. Don't.

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**Ethereal Reflection**

How long had it been since he had slept through the night? How long had it been since the welcoming arms of sleep had embraced him, taking away his sorrows of the arduous days?

Danny fought to find the answer to his question, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of his window, sleep eluding him for another night. The world outside was dark, save one lone street lamp, illuminating the early autumn leaves that dusted the streets below. Pressing closer to the glass, he closed his eyes, hoping to fall into a long forgotten slumber, but still there was nothing.

He was tired.

Tired from school, from fighting, from living a double life that he had barely chosen on his own. Life had become a battle; one which he was slowly losing.

Aware of how painfully cliché his thoughts had grown, he laughed throwing himself across the room, landing against the closet door. Sliding down to his knees, he let out a groan, voicing his unhappiness for the first time.

Opposite his gaze was a mirror, and he caught a glimpse of his ragged features for the first time that night. Rubbing at his eyes, he tried desperately to recognize himself. How many times had he looked in that mirror as the phantom? He had grown so accustomed to the liquid, green orbs piercing through the fog in his mind. It was who he was recognized as; the accidental hero the city had begrudgingly began to trust.

A second laugh broke from his lips, quickly fading to a shudder.

"It hurts," he whispered, turning away from his reflection, growing tired of his own wounded expression. "Why does it hurt?"

Painfully, he tried to call upon his phantom side, hoping to once again escape into the frozen abyss. But when the cold did not come, he began to panic. He got to his feet shakily, taking rapid gasps of air, fighting to ward off the heat that was closing in. An unbearable warmth was enveloping him, and he clawed viciously at himself, in a horrid attempt to bring forth his other half.

"Why?" He choked out, crossing to the length of the room. "It hurts…" He fell to his knees, pressing his forehead against the mirror, his breathing heavy. The heat had grown unbearable, and Danny found himself wishing for death just for the chance to feel the familiar cold he longed for.

"Please," he muttered, closing his eyes as leaned he closer to the glass.

He wasn't sure when the glass had turned so icy; perhaps it had always been. But as he looked back at the mirror, he was met with a welcome sight. His reflection had taken an ethereal turn, a pale hand pressed firmly against the surface.

The heat had failed to subside.

"You…you're…" he faltered for a word to express himself, swiftly any composure he may have had.

His reflection remained silent, his gaze never leaving Danny. He was searching for something in his eyes, his brow furrowing in the process, but he did not look away, as if in fear that he would miss what he was so desperately hoping to find.

Seeing the ghost boy like this was unnerving, because, despite his moods current downfall, he had never found a poor reflection when he had taken to the phantom life.

"Stop," he whispered. "Just…stop!" He turned away, letting his back hit the mirror. Yet, he knew his words were falling on deaf ears. The beginning, though far in the past, wasn't hard to recall, nor how unstable his transformations had been. True enough, he could feel the semblance of a hand pressing lightly against his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

The phantom's voice had come out so light, thoughit was hard to brush off such a straight forward question.

"You didn't come…" he muttered, wishing he could lean more into the comforting touch.

"I'm right here," and he could practically see the smile in his reflections voice.

He didn't comment, though he grunted in detest. He wasn't looking for witty banter tonight.

"Hey," the phantom urged his voice grazing Danny's ear, "talk to me."

It wasn't a request.

"I just want to…" he started, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, "_be_ you."

There was a pause, the room falling silent. Finally, the phantom spoke, his words soft, but stern, "You _are _me."

Maybe it was hearing the words aloud for the first time, or maybe it was who the words had come from, but suddenly Danny found himself fighting back tears, choking at a pathetic explanation.

"No! I'm tired of being two! I want to be one-all the time! I want to be you!"

Again and again he said the words, hoping that it would become the truth. He could sense his other half's confusion, but he didn't bother to elaborate. How could he possibly explain his cumbersome thoughts?

Endlessly, the words spilled from his lips, and it was growing increasingly difficult to silence himself. He just wanted to let the phantom to know how jealous he was. Jealous that, at the end of the day, it was the ghost that the people wanted. Not one person in town could find something more interesting to talk about than ghost threats, or hunters, or the infamous _Invisobill_. The name in itself was a bittersweet blessing. No one could know the truth, no matter how much he wanted to share it.

"I want to be you," he whispered one last time, feeling drained.

"I _am_ you."

He had barely heard the words, but they stoked the very fear that fueled the conversation, and he turned blindly towards his reflection, gripping the mirror painfully beneath white knuckles.

"Stop it!"

Again those green eyes matched against his own, and the phantom searched his blue orbs with such determination.

"What are you-"

"I can still see."

"See what?"

Without hesitation the phantom smiled mournfully, pointing a fingertip in his direction.

"You."

The confusion on his face must have been evident, but his reflection did nothing to explain.

"I see you, and… I see me too."

Instantly, the heat had receded, and so did the phantom, shades of blue now falling under his gaze. Outside, the night wore on, though sleep still wouldn't come. Confusion overtook him, and yet he found himself relaxing against the mirror again, his hands resting at his sides. Breathing a heavy sigh, he found himself smiling.

Smiling for what he was supposed to have known all along, and yet he still didn't see.

"Yeah," he murmured, "I see me too."

End

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That's the end. Please review. Please click the link to Chichiri no Miko's picture. I heart you all. 


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